When the door did absolutely nothing, Raiha eyed the lock briefly. A sudden thought arrived in her head that certainly wasn’t Kanikra. Give up your secrets, she thought, or else I have a very big mace waiting for the lock! The silliness of the thought made her smile faintly, as if half-hoping that it would do something. Perhaps the door, wishing to be spared her blunt trauma-inflicting weapon would open of its own accord, and she wouldn’t have to force something of her own past her lips.
It was wishful thinking. The willed threat, of course, did nothing. Not that she had meant it seriously. She felt the sun bearing down on her exposed neck - her long, white hair had been pulled up and pinned with etched pieces of bone, wound in a bun and then in place. The breeze fluttered her long, tiered skirt. Even in the heat of the summer, Raiha still preferred longer clothes. It wasn’t modesty; not particularly, but she simply liked the ruffled cloth at her ankles. She hadn’t been going for darkened colours of mourning, though she still felt them. No, today she had put on the cotton skirt that was made of alternating strips of crimson and gold, hanging from her hips to her toes. A top, used of the matching cotton, had been carefully cut and stitched together to match, from her middrift to her neck, leaving her arms bare. It had had to be cut that way in order to hide her mark from Akajia - it, after all, was her deepest secret, and not one she would ever freely give to another. Her leather belt was half-hidden under the distressed fringed belt worn over it, cotton that varied in length between her thighs and her knees. But it did little to hide the sheaths on her person, which in turn hid what it was that she carried, but for the long-handled flanged mace. She exhaled, but her own curiosity would not let her leave as chimes passed. It was a showdown that she was apparently going to be doomed to lose.
She closed her eyes slowly, only to open them again, drawing in another breath. “I am afraid,” she told the door in a voice below even a whisper, hardly audible. “Ever since Kanikra and I were separated when we chased Uzima down... ever since Rath and Uruk were killed... I’m afraid. I’m afraid of being alone. I can’t show it. I have to be strong. Kavala needs me to be strong. She has had a harder time than I have, and she needs me. The dogs need me to be strong, to show that I am the Alpha. The birds need it, because they are used to it and they need the stability that comes with it. I’m afraid of being weak, and being unable to defend and protect my friends and family, and my daughter when she comes. I’m afraid of being a liability to them, of never being strong enough to look them.” Just saying these things aloud left her throat burning and dry. She hated voicing these thoughts, hated admitting to that weakness that she tried hard to compensate for, to bury, to lock up, keeping it between her and her sister-soul. She preferred to cast them out over meditation, to expel the negative thoughts that niggled in her conscious, and use them to strengthen her, but even now in the city of her fathers, even with Kanikra, even with the whispering shadows that were her constant companions, lurking behind her from Syna's light and along the wall, she felt alone.
And she hated it.
by Raiha on June 30th, 2012, 9:27 pm 