I looked out the window, placing my hands
on the cold glass gingerly. Daelius seemed so far away. My home was slowly
moving away from me. Although Daelius was slowly diminishing like old thoughts
that one yearns to remember, the happy times and memories remained, engaging
my mind in endless circles of emotions and events.
I thought about the crisp blue sunlight
of Daelius. Warm, unlike the smooth windowpane on which I rested my long
fingers. I thought about the fresh, clean Daelius air. It was much fresher
than this stuffy air in the commuter. I inhaled sharply; wondering what
the air on Chivia would be like.
Chivia. That was another aspect invading
my thoughts. My brain pulsed with the long contemplated query. No matter
how much I tried to make this query disintegrate, it remained in my brain
like a short tune that plays over and over in your head. The query was
monotonous.
Why? Why? Why must I go to Chivia to be
trained? Why must I feel like an over-plumed bird, wearing glittering robes
that are bothersome and itchy? I had so many questions. If my dear Pedagogue
back on Daelius had heard me ask these questions, his first answer would
be intelligent. Yet, they were such simple questions. Even I knew the answers.
The brain will not accept answers sometimes, and I suppose that was the
case with me. Yes, I knew the answer to my query. I knew the answer to
every one of them.
I had been handpicked, handpicked by the
Empress herself. It was a great honor in this way. But why had I been picked?
I had been happy on Daelius. Again, my Pedagogue shunned me in my head.
Again, needless questioning. I knew why I had been picked. I had the special
scar. The Empress’s prophecy had been fulfilled.
I would be the high priestess of Chivia.
*
*
*
The commuter was dark. It was odd.
I supposed it was night. But it couldn’t be! On Daelius right now, it would
be morning. It was a strange feeling I had never felt. It made me feel
how faraway I was from home. I didn’t even know what solar system I was
in. I wondered what the Chivians called their star?
While I was thinking on the subject
of stars and solar systems, I realized something I hadn’t before. The sunlight
in Chivia’s solar system was white, maybe yellow! That was quite a new
concept to me. Different colored starlight? What an oddity! While I was
contemplating this, Dae-Yaelran summoned me.
“Nemté Adaria!” Called Captain
Dae-Yaelran, summoning me loudly. I found it odd that he addressed me with
the title of “most honorable”. I had only heard two people referred by
that title by citizens on my home planet; Senator Nemté Jarinn,
our pride-filled ruler of the planet, and Captain Nemté Dae-Yaelran
himself. It was quite an honor, but was hard to accept such praise. I wonder
how Nemté Jarinn took his praise? He took it modestly, no doubt.
He was a kind man and filled his position with dignity. Now I outranked
both of them, though it was difficult to admit that, even in my head. I
felt rather uncomfortable and quite out of place.
I finally came to the cockpit of the commuter,
where Dae-Yaelran sat. The view was beautiful! Millions of stars glazed
black space, shining and sparkling. A small planet was stuck in the middle
of all this beauty. Its waters, which were of a deep blue, offset the numerous
small green islands. I turned to Dae-Yaelran, raising my eyebrows; asking
a question with my eyes. Dae-Yaelran understood.
“That’s Chivia,” he remarked.
“Is this why you summoned me?” I questioned,
struggling to keep good posture.
“No,” said Dae-Yaelran, “in fact, there
is a small crisis.”
I slumped down, in panic. There is a small
crisis? We do not have time for a crisis! Does the Empress not want me?
After all this travel, she is going to send us back? I calmed myself, realizing
I jumped to and fro conclusions like a small sandpiper hopping among the
shore of a sandy beach. I straightened myself out, taking short, graceful
breaths. I opened my mouth slowly to ask the dreaded question.
“What is the matter?” I questioned, my
voice hinted with worry. Dae-Yaelran noticed my concern.
“Oh, ‘tis nothing really. ‘Tis just a
small annoyance. There have been certain problems on Chivia concerning
illegal immigration. They just sent a projection to us, stating that it
is the duty of the space blockade to scan our ship and interrogate us.
It will only take a little while.” I sighed, relieved.
“Thank you, Yaelran.. I am relieved
the problem isn’t...” I stopped in mid-sentence. I covered my mouth with
my hand. I had called him Yaelran! I had forgotten to slip in the formal
title of “Dae” and called him simply Yaelran! I was thoroughly embarrassed.
Only a female united partner of a man used his plain name.
Dae-Yaelran stared at me, obviously
shocked and equally embarrassed. I made a curtsy, swallowing quietly, and
saying in a meek voice,
“Thank, you sir, for informing me
of the situation.” I bowed low to show my exceeding apology for such a
terrible deed. Suddenly, something happened. It made me feel awkward inside.
Dae-Yaelran smiled at me, and said, in his firm voice,
“Your mistake doesn’t matter, Nemté
Adaria, for we aren’t on Daelius anymore.” It was odd for a man in
a placement of such honor would simply brush off my terrible mistake that
usually left dishonor. I had a strange feeling inside of me, but I couldn’t
describe it. I turned around to retire to my room, so I could fall asleep
and clear my brain of this odd feeling.
*
*
*
I was glad to get some rest before
we reached the blockade. I was especially glad to take off my itchy, glittering
robes of stature and change into a flowing silk sleeping dress. I had been
wishing for a nap in my glass dome bed all day. I lifted the hinged domed
glass top off the circular bed, and slipped my pale legs into the crimson
satin sheets. Then I slipped in my whole body, curling myself into a warm
ball. The crimson sheets were smooth and had been heating all day. Now
the heat was transferred into my body, filling me with a warm feeling that
reminded me of my cozy cottage on Daelius.
Automatically the bed sensed I had
curled up, and the glass dome was lowered. I heard air shooting into the
bed area from some mechanism at the top of the dome. It was lavender fragrance.
Its scent tried to persuade me to fall asleep, but I was waiting for the
comforting sound feature of the domed glass bed. Then, out of a quiet emptiness
it came, the sound of rain pattering. I closed my eyes and listened, remembering
the wet rainstorms of Daelius. I remembered when I was a child, and I heard
rain outside, I would rush out and dance in the rain, looking up towards
the heavens. They were beautiful to me, they were wide and inviting, even
when a light gray. The drumming of raindrops were soon accompanied by a
soft piano solo. It was a pity I never got to hear the whole of it.
Suddenly, after seemly only seconds of
sleeping, I was awakened by a purely robotic voice, and turned to a thing
that looked like a metal trash receptacle. I stifled a giggle.
“Did you enjoy your nap, Nemté?
I excuse my interruption, Nemté. Let me explain, Nemté. I
am Dae-Yaelran’s service robot. I was commanded to awaken you, Nemté.
I was commanded to tell you to dress, Nemté. My commands were not
explained, excuse me, please. We have reached the space blockade. Would
you care for a refreshment, Nemté?” I yawned. It was quite a lot
for a service robot to say. I decided if it was Dae-Yaelran’s service robot,
though, that it was serious. I hopped out of the domed bed.
“A refreshment?” I contemplated
out loud. “Yes... that would be nice.” I watched in amusement as the little
service robot’s arm reached towards a silver-colored cylindrical case at
his side. After he hand gripped it, his other arm, obviously magnetic,
stuck to it. The magnet rotated, unscrewing the cap. The robot set the
top of the bottle down on a small table next to the bed, upside down to
use as a cup. His other hand, which gripped the other part of the bottle
steadily, lowered, and a steaming red liquid was poured into the cup.
“Thank you for allowing me to serve
you, Nemté. Dae-Yaelran expects your attendance is fifteen minutes,”
the robot commented, wheeling towards the exit of the room. I quickly hurried
to the wardrobe, opening the hinged silver doors and idly taking out a
crimson dress with faux fur lining that I particularly liked. It would
be easy to put on, and luckily not as itchy as my regal robes. Hurriedly,
I disrobed from my sleeping dress and changed into the crimson one. It
certainly had a different, more confined, feel to it.
Then, I took out the mahogany case
that held the hair accessories. Without looking, I pulled out a large ebony
comb embedded with mother-of-pearl and a thick golden circlet. I inserted
the comb and placed the circlet on my head, then I braided my hair into
several braids and let them fall by my shoulders. I didn’t bother
with inserting the hundreds of gold and silver beads that would have been
essential if I had been addressing an important speech. Quickly, I examined
myself in the mirror, checking to see if I looked at least partly decent.
Presentable enough, I told myself. I wondered if I was in the Chivian fashion;
hopefully I was.
I still had a meager amount of time to
drink up that liquid that the little service robot had given me. I lifted
the silver cup to my lips, sipping it carefully, so as not to spill any
on my dress. It was warm, and tasted of sweet red berries that we had back
on Daelius, but it wasn’t at all like punch. It tasted as if it were a
fruit flavored tea, actually. Suddenly, the delightful flavor shifted.
It changed into a bitter, horrid taste. I swallowed it hastily, so I wasn’t
compelled to spit it out. My mouth was left with the taste of the tonic
water that my mother mixed with her cordial.
I set the cup down in disgust, shifting
my facial features to a face signifying the bitterness that remained in
my mouth. I looked in the mirror, trying to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
It was such a funny face that it was unfortunate that no one was there
to see it. I loved when people laughed at my antics, because it gave me
a refreshing feel in my heart, the feel that I had given pleasure to someone.
I looked around the barren room, inhaling the stuffy air that had become
all too familiar and smelling tinges of the lavender fragrance, leftover
from my domed bed, recreating the ambiance.
There was no one here to laugh at me,
which was obvious. There would be no one on Chivia who would laugh at me
either, for I held a title and position of high honor and they would consider
it a disgrace to laugh at me. That is, if they’re as polite as I’ve heard
them to be. No one would laugh at me on Daelius, but that was obvious,
as I was informed long ago that I would never see my family, or a Daelius
citizen for that matter, again. I was left with only one who laughed in
my presence, Dae-Yaelran.
His laugh did not leave me with any pleasure,
though, to be very honest. It was too strong of a laugh; its capacity of
joy seemed very little, making it a noise of hollowness instead of a noise
of cheerfulness, as all laughs should be. Dae-Yaelran’s laugh seemed mocking.
Yes, it was a strong laugh, stronger than the rich coffee, dark as night,
which my father used to drink. That Dae-Yaelran! Everything he did matched
his disposition, which was quite depressing. He would make a terrible scholar
of the arts. He was always thinking about duties, never loosening the vice
on his head that controlled his thoughts to let some creative imagination
seep in.
A clear and unwavering tone sounded, summoning
me to the cockpit. I took one last, longing gaze out at the stars, reminding
myself of everything I had left behind. Unlike those stars that I gazed
at, though, the memories would never die. Or perhaps, I said to myself,
the memories are already dead, leaving each their own special scar so I
will constantly be reminded of their presence in my mind. That was a more
realistic way to put it. We had reached the blockade, and so reached Chivia,
where my life would be changed forever.
*
*
*
I strode gracefully off the ramp out of
the commuter, pointing my toes, heeding Lyria’s advice that it would make
me look stately. I looked around. I never realized the space blockade was
just several space stations orbiting the planet. I had been notified we
had docked our commuter at the space station D-15. It was a large,
airy room with, gray and white seeming to be the color scheme. It seemed
to be all made of metal, with an ugly concrete-like floor. It wasn’t lovely
at all, at least, unlike the commuter. It was very noisy. I heard ships
docking in, electric tools humming, and overall many unpleasant noises.
People bustled about, some speaking languages I had not heard before, and
some just looking different. The smell of fuel tinged the air harshly.
I felt confined enough in the crimson dress, but to have Dae-Yaelran close
to me on one side and a boy who looked just a bit older than on the other,
I felt crowded.
I glanced at the man I did not know who
was standing on the left. I had remembered him boarding the commuter with
the other passengers, but had not remembered his purpose or name. He just
barely caught my glance at him, brushing his head towards me. I looked
away but concentrated on his face in my mind. His hair was blonde, not
like most Daelians, but he had high cheekbones and pale skin, just like
the Daelians. I was trying to remember his name, sorting all multitudes
of names in my head.
He seemed to be glancing at me curiously.
It was then that I noticed his flushed cheeks. He looked much like a traditional
Daelian actor, with the traditional red pollen swiped on his cheeks. I
needed to call him something in my brain, so I named him “Dae-Rudd-y’pollenface”.
Then I giggled quietly. The name was ridiculous and much too long. I could
imagine myself doing a low curtsy and saying gracefully, “I am honored
to be in your presence, Sir Dae-Rudd-y’pollenface.”
I giggled quietly, but obviously Dae-Yaelran
had heard me. He swiped his hand across his forehead, trying to arrange
his coarse dark bangs casually, then nudged me. I straightened myself,
walking slowly so my headdress wouldn’t topple to the floor. The circlet
was much too heavy for its size; I felt as if I was balancing two elephants
on my head.
I heard many footsteps behind me, and
curiously turned my head to see at least five bodyguards, each holding
a silver pistol by their armored chest. This made me feel uncomfortable.
Why are bodyguards necessary? Does someone want to kill me? I felt another
nudge from Dae-Yaelran. I would certainly hear it from him when we
were in private circumstances. I swung my head back, focusing my eyes to
the front. In the process, though, I knocked my headress into Dae-Rudd-y’pollenface.
Accordingly, my heavy circlet fell off, landing on his toe. He clenched
his teeth in pain. Dae-Yaelran held up his hand as a signal for the bodyguards
to stop, and he turned to the victim of my murderous, naughty headress.
“Dae-Ghent!” He exclaimed. “Are you alright?”
I giggled a bit louder than I should have.
The sight of “Dae-Ghent” hopping on one foot like a drunk ostrich was more
than I could bear. Dae-Yaelran glared at me, and Dae-Ghent looked at me
crossly, transferring a message to me that I should be silent. So, I was
silent. Dae-Yaelran cleared his throat. This meant an apology was required.
Dae-Ghent keep his concrete stare firm, and filled with that cross expression.
I made a deep curtsy, keeping my supporting
leg strong and stable. I closed my eyes and looked down in shame.
“I am sorry to burden you, most honorable
Dae-Ghent, for disgracing you and not maintaining my composure. I assure
you that this will not happen again. I am sorry to laugh insincerely at
the terrible pain that I inflicted on you,” I said, keeping my head low,
choosing and speaking my words slowly, yet gracefully. I lifted my head
up, sadly, and said in an unintentional dramatic voice, “I am also exceedingly
sorry for the trouble that my headress caused, it is so bothersome, but
it was not its fault, it was my entire fault…” Oh goodness! What had I
said? My choice of words was ill, and now I was left thoroughly embarrassed.
I smiled sheepishly, focusing on Dae-Ghent's phenomenal nose.
Dae-Ghent laughed wildly. I brightened
up, smiling at him happily. I brightened up not just because he wasn’t
mad anymore, but also because I had been wrong. No matter where I was,
people would never stop laughing at my stupid mistakes and silly antics.
*
*
*
After what seemed like miles of walking
down the spacious, metal-scented docking bay, we came to a large door that
swished loudly and opened as soon as we approached it. We stepped in the
room, which was generally a “waiting room” of sorts. It consisted of metal
chairs with crimson cushions, facing towards a large picture window that
viewed into space. The floor was not concrete in here. Instead, it displayed
various tiled patterns. In the center of this room, there was a short,
cylindrical pedestal. Then I noticed another door. Dae-Yaelran noticed,
too.
Before we could proceed to the next room,
a shaft of bluish light crept up from the pedestal on the floor. Instantly,
a three dimensional figure appeared. I realized immediately the pedestal
on the floor was a hologram projector. They can’t meet us in person? Why
not? I promptly asked Dae-Yaelran in a quiet manner this question. He groaned,
responding back to me in a muffled voice.
“This was to be expected. They really
aren’t taking any chances, are they?” The hologram, which had stayed motionless,
began to move. I wasn’t sure what type of creature was being projected,
but his crossed arms meant business. His head was shaped like an egg, and
was a light green color, darkening by the cheekbones. He had two long antennae,
protruding from his head and curving regally. His eyes, nose and mouth
covered all his “body”, not leaving room for a chest or waist. So I supposed
all in all he looked like a green head with thin, long limbs... and antennae.
“Hanli-ko! Ter tem mikart’foa fae
ki’ko cuun gua fair-yertrem, Adaria Tero.” His words seemed grim and faraway.
When he spoke, a pleased smile, still slightly grim, appeared on his face.
Dae-Yaelran turned to Dae-Ghent,
asking a question with his eyes as was his custom.
Dae-Ghent turned to us, spread his arms
and addressed us.
“The senator says that he is honored
that Nemté Adaria could be in his presence.” Dae-Ghent spoke with
a wisdom beyond his years. That is, if he was as young as I thought. I
found it odd that the creature had addressed me instead of Dae-Yaelran,
but I was beginning to be accustomed to attention. Finally, one of the
questions I was yearning to ask was answered. Dae-Ghent had come along
with us as an interpreter.
“Ah, my deepest apologies, I wish
you must accept,” The creature said. “I had quite forgetted that you had
come from a distant planet from which you traveled far, quite. I have quite
forgetted to spoke your language.”
I wanted to giggle at his funny
placement of words, but I maintained my dignity, and realized if he would
have heard my poor Chivian that he would have laughed, and how that would
have made me feel. I looked at the creature gratefully, hoping that he
would think I was pleased with his Daelius speech. He glanced at me and
his expression softened like warm butter.
“Ah, Adaria Tero, I have forgetted
you do not suppose who I is. I is T’yur-t’in-kyuur, I is the senator and
is the personality assistant of Empress Maliki, conjurer of the heavens,
and ruler of the re-knowned territories of Chivia.” I decided to please
him by using his native tongue. I smiled curtly and made a deep curtsy,
using the words that he had welcomed me with.
“Hanli-ko! Ter tem mikkiturt’foa
fae ki’ko coan gua fair-yertlish, T’yur-t’in-kyuur Tero.”
He burst into laughter. I’ll have
to do something about my stupid mistakes. Later, Dae-Ghent informed me
that I had said to T’yur, “Greetings! I am disgusted to be flattening your
cake, honorable
T’yur-t’in-kyuur.”
*
*
*
After a bit of explaining, and a
rather annoying scan of our ship, possessions, and bodies, we were led
to several lovely apartments where we were to stay for the night. Everything
went smoothly, especially when we got to our apartments.
When I entered the apartment, the attendants
took me to another room adjoining it. It contained a large bathtub, probably
made of marble. A detailed statue of a fish was mounted on a pillar near
the head of the bath. The attendant silently turned a marble knob near
the fish statue. It turned, but not without a loud creak.
I marveled, clasping my hands as steaming
water splashed out quickly from the fish’s mouth and into the bathtub,
gurgling cheerfully. Taking a flask from a nearby mahogany table, she removed
the cork and poured some pink liquid into the bath. I inhaled through my
nostrils, taking the scent in. It flowed through my body like a delicate
piece of music, its manner soft and mellow. I recognized the smell. It
was that of a T’ier-Adaria blossom for which I was named! I thought T’ier-Adaria
trees only grew on Daelius!
I looked at the attendant and smiled.
I wondered if they called them the same thing on Chivia.
“T’ier-Adaria?” I questioned curiously,
using the tone of voice I would use for someone much younger than I. The
attendant brightened up and her cheeks became as red as that dreaded fruit
tea that Dae-Yaelran’s service robot had given me. She smiled happily and
nodded.
“Tee-aire Adaa-rae’a!”
I smiled back at her, trying to be friendly.
She looked nice. She had light dark hair, beige skin, and eyes that
shone like stars. I wanted to find out her name. I wondered if she understood
any of the Daelian language. I motioned to myself slowly, pronouncing each
syllable clearly.
“My name is Adaria,” I said, “what is
your name?” I queried this while pointing to her.
“Tee-aire Adaa-rae’a!” She repeated cheerfully,
a confused look sweeping across her face like wind sweeping across a plain.
I pointed to myself again and repeated my name.
“Adaria,” I pronounced.
“Adaa-rae’a?” She questioned, pointing
to me as if she needed verification. I nodded slowly.
Before I could speak to her more, a high
tone chimed from a contraption on the wall that looked like a public announcement
system. Quickly, the girl made a low curtsy, her knees pulsing as if she
was about to topple over. She made one last of her brilliant smiles, displaying
her ivory-colored teeth. She gathered up a silver tray on the mahogany
bath table, and trotted off it a dignified way.
I looked at the luxurious bathtub,
touching its smooth surface. Was it marble? I had much to learn if I was
to stay on Chivia. Of course, I wouldn’t think about those things now,
for a steaming perfumed bath was waiting for me.
*
*
*
I gazed at the white ceiling of my
room in the space blockade ship. I yawned, and wiped the hair from my forehead.
My hand swept across my face, which had been left smooth from the bath.
I wondered when I would get supper. Chivians must eat rather late. I had
slipped on a plain, short-sleeved white frock after my bath, but needed
a better dress before I could be served my supper. That is, if they were
going to give me any supper.
I scurried to my wardrobe chests
that had been carried on by attendants. I sorted through the small compartments,
taking out a golden circlet embedded with bits of turquoise. It seemed
pleasing to me, as it looked neither bothersome nor informal. I then sorted
through my dress selection. It was very limited selection, because not
all of my wardrobe chests had been carried on. I chose a turquoise dress
that matched the turquoise in the circlet. It was embroidered with lilies
made from golden floss. Folded in with it were elastic armbands with golden
flags attached so they trailed along and enhanced arm movements.
I slipped the dress over my head,
and then put on the armbands and placed the circlet on my head.
Spinning in front of the grand mirror
that spanned the wall of the private blockade chamber, I admired the sheer
beauty of the dress. I heard a knock at the door, and quickly stopped spinning.
My chin immediately arranged itself high in the air, the former teachings
of grace and beauty making this regal position commonplace.
A male attendant entered, and fell
to his knees, his tunic wrinkling with the movement.
“Madam,” He said, in broken Daelian,
“Honorable T’yur-t’in-kyuur requests cordially your attendance for supper.”
And so started my first traditional
Chivian dinner.
*
*
*
At dinner, I found myself sitting
next to Dae-Yaelran, but I felt as if I was sitting next to confusion.
I was left befuddled with the odd eating utensil, which was similar to
a pair of tongs, except made of wood and lacquered to a black color. An
embossed lily adorned the top of the tongs, where the tines met together
and became thick and fanned out.
I was accustomed to a fork and spoon,
so I struggled with this awkward instrument. I wiggled my hand and made
pensive face expressions as I tried to bring some type of steamed grain
beads to my mouth.
Dae-Yaelran watched my struggle with an
amused expression. He was the only one who noticed. Why did he have to
notice everything? I suppose his vigilance made up for his lack of creativity.
The others,
Dae-Ghent, and T’yur, seemed to be concentrated
on the steaming dish of victuals.
“Here,” Dae-Yaelran offered, taking
my hand which held the eating utensil, “You seem to be having some difficulty.
Let me show you how to use these tongs.” Dae-Yaelran looked into my eyes,
his gaze sparkling. His hand, which touched mine, spread a familiar feeling
throughout my body. It was similar to the feeling I had had when I had
addressed Dae-Yaelran informally, and he had taken it lightly. Dae-Yaelran
proceeded to show me the correct usage of the tongs.
Finally, after many fascinated glances
from Dae-Ghent and T’yur, I finally managed to produce a beautiful and
skillful tong hand. I thought about Dae-Yaelran’s touch that had spread
that feeling throughout me. Somehow, the feeling was different. I didn’t
want to be cleared of it; it seemed comfortable.
I glanced at Dae-Yaelran, who seemed
to now be occupied with his meal. I remembered his gaze, and then shook
my head in disbelief. He was just trying to help me in a respectful
manner... or was it...?
*
*
*
The shadows of nightfall were evident
in the small, warm room adjoining the massive dining hall. A glistening
holographic fire was burning in a faux fireplace, yet it seemed real because
of the heat that was being produced from heating vents in the floor.
T’yur was seated in a chair obviously
made specialized for his type of species, with the antennae, short limbs,
and egg-shaped head. I was noticing that much of the crew on the space
blockade was of his species.
Dae-Yaelran sat next to T’yur, holding
a large goblet of what smelled similar to that dreaded fruit tea that had
scarred my taste buds. He retained a relaxed expression, and was speaking
quietly with T’yur. I was sitting on the divan couch with large velvet
pillows, next to Dae-Ghent. His dark red cheeks matched the dying holographic
embers of the fire.
He shook his head, his pointy flaxen
bangs bouncing casually. His brown eyes focusing on mine as he turned to
me. Is it custom nowadays for people to focus intensely on other’s eyes?
I wondered, looking away bluntly.
Dae-Ghent finally stuttered out
some words.
“Your dress is very pretty, especially
the embroidery. Was it made especially for you?” He queried with interest.
I shook my head.
“No, it was made for my older sister,
but it became too small. I miss her…” I explained, my eyes trailing to
the wall in sadness.
“I know how you feel,” said Dae-Ghent
with a sigh. “I have been away from my parents for a terribly long period.
My mother is Daelian, but my father is from Earth, which is the prime planet
of the Orion arm of our galaxy. Daelius is claimed by Earth, but is still
individually ruled, rather like a protectorate, you might say.”
“Oh?” I asked, looking at Dae-Ghent.
“Yes,” he said, “I was recently
staying with my grandparents on Daelius, because of lack of funds on my
home planet Chivia. Now that I am here, I shall stay with my parents.
I have been parted with them long enough.” His voice was laced with a familiar
sadness. It was distinct and very easy to recognize, especially because
I knew the feeling. My family was no longer with me. But Dae-Ghent would
see his family soon, and I knew I would never see my family again.
Dae-Ghent gaze was drawn away from
the floor and for a brief moment, his amber eyes met mine for the second
time that night. His lips curled into a handsome smile.
“By the way, you need not address
me by my traditional name. Call me Ghent; just Ghent.”
Why was my heart racing so?
*
*
*
Night was falling, and the Chivian
moon had become evident as it shone its crisp, milky-white rays on my pale
face. The rays were quite delicate, and yet you could not break them, however
hard you tried. They remained the same, crisp shafts of moonlight. I thought
of my mother, with her powdered face, and long plaited ebony hair, just
like mine. She would have wanted me to be like that moonlight, delicate
and beautiful, yet unbreakable. I feared that trait was not evident in
myself any longer. I feared I was not “unbreakable”. I feared these two
things because I though my heart was breaking. I had never felt that way
before, so knew not what to think.
The cause of this supposed broken
heart was because of the two faces that looked upon me with kindness and
understanding. A pair of faces that were filled with sympathy and shared
feelings. I had realized their interest during the very first forms of
it, and yet refused to believe. I didn’t need any handsome admirers to
charm me. I needed my family. My wise father, my beautiful mother, and
my sweet sister. I needed their comfort, but knew however far I reached
for it, I would never be able to grasp it and clutch safely.
A tear ran down my cheek, and then
more and more. As these drops of crystal ran down my cheek, I collapsed
onto the bed, sobbing. Tomorrow I would go to Chivia. I would make myself
hate it. I would scream until they let me have my family. I hated Ghent,
and I hated Yaelran. No, I wouldn’t use those informal titles to show a
hint of similar feelings that weren’t there. Forever in my heart, I would
hate Dae-Ghent and Dae-Yaelran.
I couldn’t convince myself they
were my enemies; I realized it was very obvious I was hopelessly in love
with them both. I couldn’t stand any of my painful, out-bursting feelings.
I did the only thing I could do. I kept crying. Many more tears would be
shed that night before we would head to the surface of Chivia the next
morning.
*
*
*
My gold leaf covered slippers felt
heavy, as if they were made of lead. My arms were drooped by my side, not
swaying in their usual contentment. My vision was blurred, and my breaths
were short and slowed. I tried to stay awake, but I feared it would be
difficult because of my lack of sleep. I began to slump, tiredly.
“Do hold still,”
“Nemté, oh Nemté,
do not droop like a wilting flower,”
“Lift your arms, honored one,”
“Hold still, please, my dear! Don’t
lift your arms!”
“Do not look down, keep your chin
up,”
“Hold out your hand, dear,”
“Nemté Adaria, don’t move!”
“Chin up!”
“Your hand, please,”
“Do stop drooping!” Seemingly thousands
of attendants were swarming about me like hornets, each spewing out commands
left and right, some contradicting. I couldn’t think, and the sounds became
muffled. My senses became muted, as I had not slept a wink. I could only
feel my eyelids slipping over my eyes, and attendants clothing me and fiddling
with my previously disheveled hair.
I wore silk stockings that were
tied with golden garters above my knee, with a large red dress, then a
very thick and hot robe, glittering with gems. I felt as though I were
about to topple over, not just from my sleepiness, but also from the excessive
attentions being ministered to me. I nodded, bobbing my head about wearily
and widening my sleep-lacking eyes, idylls flashing in my memory. I let
out a sigh and reminded myself we had landed on Chivia. Dae-Ghent and Dae-Yaelran
would soon leave my side.
Soon, the worker ants around me began
to subside, and I was left alone in my chamber. Relief struck me, as the
loud commands had withered away like a tepid leaf, carelessly plucked from
a elegant bough of a tree. I wobbled slowly and unsteadily towards the
mirror, and gasped at the strange person staring back at me.
She was unfamiliar. Her hair was plaited
and set into buns intricately, and a towering monstrosity was perched on
her head. The monstrosity had three crests, adorned with gems and feathers,
and was pinned on with literally hundreds of jeweled hairpins. Her face,
as if not pale enough, was covered with white face makeup, seemingly applied
with a large coal shovel.
As the looming, early morning shadows
laughed at the peculiar sight before them, I realized the girl in the mirror
was I. It was a strange, terrible representation of me. I glared at it
in disgust, wrinkling my nose until it was as shriveled as a dried apricot.
A snowstorm of white powder drifted from my nose, the wrinkles upsetting
the carefully applied work of art.
The work of art-The thought suddenly came
to my mind. The gaggle of handmaidens had never cared about how I felt,
or if I were comfortable, or even if I was having a good day. All they
fussed about was my appearance. Could it be that I was meant to be a work
of art, and not meant to be who I really was? As I contemplated this I
wanted to rip the headpiece from my hair, dishevel my hair defiantly, and
shout robustly, “I’m a person, not something you can just change to suit
your standards!”
But I didn’t. Great dishonor would befall
me if I did. Then, I did something I hadn't done in days. I stared at my
scar. It was three parallel scrapes, which were a crimson red. I didn't
understand how those scrapes could so easily change my life.
To
be Continued...
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